Now.
So here we are… we might have started feeling lost or overwhelmed or caught up in an emotional spiral. And we decided to do something else. (how brave!). And where are we now?
Maybe you’re sore, maybe thirsty. Perhaps. And maybe a bit raw but also more open, no longer fighting yourself. Listening in a fresh way. Taking in. Taking in is nurturing, it’s kindness, it is care and compassion.
In this series, I’ve been drawing connections between the Alexander principles and a mindfulness practice, RAIN. There’s something refreshing and renewing about how both methods invite us to focus on the feelings at hand rather than grasp a result.
We began with R - recognize and followed a sometimes challenging intentional practice: A - allow and I - investigate. Now we are ready for N.
It is already here! Take it in: you are OK, you are here, now.
I’ve seen N of RAIN called a few different things: non-attachment, nurturing, natural awareness. I think it is also our natural coordination. When we stand as our honest selves our actions are centered, and we have a sense of being. Alexander recognized natural poise and taught people to get out of their own way so that they could access their deeper sense of strength and readiness.
Your natural coordination might be felt as a kind of tall peacefulness, from head to heels, an embodiment of non-attachment. You aren’t the emotions, you aren’t your habits; your identity is not defined by your feelings. Have you noticed that when you take a break from making things about you that your compassion comes to the forefront? For others and for yourself.
In this final post on RAIN and AT practice we get to rest in the Now, to simply be. What if we let go of rushing and doing and trying? Even while there is injustice, war, and climate change. Whether you sit or stand or lie down in Active Rest, you get to rest and to be. Now.
One of my favorite poems:
Keeping Quiet, by Pablo Neruda,
Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still
for once on the face of the earth,
let's not speak in any language;
let's stop for a second,
and not move our arms so much.
It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.
Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would not look at his hurt hands.
Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.
What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about...
If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with
death.
Now I'll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.
Photo credits:
Photo by dan carlson on Unsplash
Photo by Danie Franco on Unsplash
Photo by Zachary Keimig on Unsplash
Photo by Maria Teneva on Unsplash